


Lose You Too (Nico di Angelo/Reader)

by AngelsAggression



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelsAggression/pseuds/AngelsAggression
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His pinky wound around yours as you both breathed in the night air and the magic the stars willingly displayed above you. "Would you believe me if I said that I'd been waiting all this time for you?" His voice washed over you, cutting through the fluttering in your chest. "No," you answered, chuckling. "It's that special 30's charm." And his raspy laughter set you aflame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Catch Smoke

His dark eyes always followed you. Whenever he was near, it was like a constant chill had fallen over your person. At the same instant, however, you burned like a pyre set upon by the most flammable liquids imaginable. You could never understand why. It always evaded your mind’s reach, like smoke. Even more of a mystery was him. 

He hardly spoke to you, and if he did, it was in short sentences. In those times, you swore he would rather be on the other side of the world than anywhere near you. He hated you, you were sure. But somehow, someway… You felt his eyes on you anyway. You could practically see them in your mind’s eye. Black as pitch, and so solemn, so serious. They had a certain glint, like a cross between a madman and a genius. You could never decide which. Why would he feel the need to watch someone he hated? You had yet to figure it out. Two years at Camp Halfblood and you still couldn’t put your finger on it, on him. Nico di Angelo was an enigma. 

You were almost afraid to try and figure him out due to the aura he gave off almost constantly. It wasn’t the rumors. They did no better justice to the boy himself. Were all children of Hades this… Morbid and unapproachable? Maybe it was because you were a child of Hermes. You didn’t know the history between children of Hermes and Hades, but it now sparked your curiosity. 

He really only interacted with you during sparring, but that was the exception. Being squared up against a son of the Big Three almost made you proud, but his technique dampered that pretty quickly. 

He seemed out to annihilate you almost every time, and you wondered if you were lucky and gifted to be paired with him most days, or just plain hated by the instructor. Each time you blocked and parried, he only came at you harder, faster. It took all you had to keep up with him so that you wouldn’t be skewered, made a husk from his soul-sucking Stygian iron sword. You idly wondered if that feature was only for monsters. 

Now, today he seemed even more frustrated with you than usual. His blade whistled over your head particularly fast, and you barely managed to move out of the way in time. Your blades clashed and he grunted.

You didn’t dare back down, however, your blades sliding together with a metallic crackling. It wasn’t much different from the way his eyes bore into yours. This time, you wouldn’t let him have the victory. Right when it seemed your muscles would buckle under the strain, your leg swept out and wound around his, attempting to trip him. It staggered him, which was definitely better than nothing. The hilt of your sword jabbed him in the stomach, as he was too slow to counter it. He fell with a pained groan, and began to force himself up, sword and all. You slammed the flat of your blade onto his shoulder and knocked him backwards, straddling him with your sword to his throat. 

You stared at each other, chests heaving. He was surprised, and you noted with idle fascination that his eyes were actually a rich dark brown, like coffee, or burnt caramel. By the time his hand reached your thigh, the instructor called off the rest of the campers in the sparring area. 

It seemed to snap him out of it, and he pushed you to the side, sitting and standing up, sheathing his sword. As the blade passed, you shivered at the cold it gave off. You looked up at him in confusion, but he simply stalked off, hands shoving into the pockets of his aviator jacket. The instructor clapped his hands. “Alright, done for the day! Good work, demigods. Remember to practice every day, even if you don’t have a sparring partner.” 

With that, the rest of the campers dispersed, off to their next lessons. You had already climbed the rock wall, and attended your archery class. You also cleaned the stables early this morning, so that left you with… Probably canoeing before dinner. You sighed, sheathing your own celestial bronze sword as you stood. Your knees were weak, but you ignored the most prominent reason for it. You made your way to the lakeshore to grab a canoe. By the time you were finished with your laps across the lake, the conch horn was blowing, signalling dinner. You climbed out of your canoe and stretched, jogging to the pavilion. 

A shower would have been nice first, but you would just have to take a quick one before the sing along and campfire. Once you got to the dining pavilion, you pointedly ignored the son of Hades, who apparently decided to show up on time for once. You got your food and scraped a portion into the offering fire for your god parent, before sitting down with your cabinmates and siblings at the crowded Hermes table. You ordered Coke to appear in your goblet halfway through your meal, and by the time you were finished, half of the dining pavilion had emptied out.

You left promptly, stopping by the Hermes cabin to grab your toiletries for the shower. You took a 10 minute shower, joining the other campers for the sing along afterwards. Nico wasn’t there tonight, but that wasn’t unusual in the slightest. He tended to avoid most of the camp if he could manage it. As you made your way back to the cabin early though, that sensation cropped up again. Your fingers itched for your sword. 

You’d taken up the habit of carrying it with you everywhere, because where there weren’t monsters, there were the Stolls. You were halfway there when you drew your sword and whipped around. Your celestial bronze clashed with ebony Stygian iron, throwing sparks with the force. You scowled at Nico, who only stared back at you. “Easy,” he murmured, drawing his sword away from yours and sheathing it on his back. 

You didn’t do the same right away, eyeing him warily. “What do you want?” You asked impatiently. He didn’t show any reaction other than a small downward quirk of his lips. “Come to my cabin,” he said quietly after stealing a look around. You raised your eyebrows at him inquisitively. Tingles shot up your spine, alert and screaming discomfort. Why would he want you anywhere near him, let alone his cabin? When you didn’t answer, he stepped forward and grabbed your arm. Immediately, darkness closed in around you and you felt as if you were being squeezed through a small tube. It was almost painful, and claustrophobic. 

Right as you wanted to gasp for air, it stopped, and you were in a dim room. Greek fire burned, casting a green glow. Nico let you go and you spun. It was a dark room in every sense of the word. Black walls, black furniture, black bed. You must have been in the Hades cabin, number 13. You turned to gawk at him. “What the Tartarus, you lunatic! I didn’t say yes!” He crossed his arms over his chest and fixed you with a look that would have made your insides wither, you were sure. You swallowed. “… Why do you want me here? You hate me, di Angelo. Or is this your special brand of friendship but you neglected to tell me?” He frowned. “Hate you?” He sounded genuinely confused. “I don’t hate you, (Name).”

“Could have fooled me,” you scoffed. He sighed, and gestured to a chair. “Just sit down and I’ll explain.” You sat stiffly, never taking your eyes off of him as he shed his aviator jacket. You wondered where he’d gotten it, eyeing its worn leather. He seemed to notice as he hung it on a hook near the door. He turned and walked over, sitting on the foot of his bed a handful of feet from you. 

He bit his lip softly, and you noticed that he was twisting his life-like silver skull ring around his left middle finger. “My mother and sister gave it to me. It was all we could afford before World War II.” Your eyes widened so much, you were almost worried they would pop right out of your sockets like pool balls. “What? How is that even possible? You’re-You’re my age! Sixteen. How could you have…” Nico kept looking at his sneakers. His eyes seemed to be burning holes in the rubber tops. 

“Do you know about the Lotus Hotel and Casino?” He asked quietly, making you start. “Yeah, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover were trapped there for a while, apparently. It makes you lose track of time and… Freezes you in it.” By the time you finished the sentence, the realization was dawning on you. “You would have to be at least eighty years old.” 

Nico looked up at you under his bangs. “I look pretty good for my age, huh? It was before World War II broke out. My mother was killed by Zeus and Hades put my sister and I in the Lotus until the time was right. I was only ten. By the time we were let out, it was 2007. Seventy years passed. I was still ten years old, my sister Bianca, thirteen. We were taken to a boarding school, Westover Hall. We weren’t there even a few months before a manticore attacked the school. That’s when Percy found us, and took us to Camp Halfblood.

“Bianca joined the Hunters of Artemis and left me here.” Even from where you sat, you could see his eyes darkening. “That’s what killed her. Everything changed after that.” You were speechless. You knew he was different but this was another matter entirely. “S-So you’re like… A time traveler. From the 20th century. And that jacket, that’s the only thing you have left of your family… I’m sorry I brought it up.” You hadn’t felt this bad for a long time. He’d been through so much and you only brought his scars to the surface. 

The son of Hades only shook his head. “Anyway, I brought you here to explain more than this. Look. I don’t hate you. I just… I just don’t know what to do with you. There’s something about you that repels me, (Name). I don’t like to get close enough to figure out what it is, though.” You gaped at him. You… repelled him? 

You stood up. “Well, I’m sorry I’m so disgusting to you, but you don’t have to force yourself by being close to me.” You made your way to the door. “(Name), wait. I didn’t mean it like that. (Name), wait.” Footsteps pounded behind you and his hand fell on your shoulder, turning you around. 

Against your better judgment, your hand shot out the same direction as you turned, as if to backhand him. Nico caught it and pinned both your hands to your stomach. “(Name). Calm down. I didn’t mean it that way. I meant I don’t know what to say around you, so I try to keep my distance.” His baritone washed over you in this close proximity, setting the hairs on the back of your neck tingling. “I don’t want you to leave me too. If I get close to you, that’s what will happen.”

You sucked in a bated breath. “And acting like you hate me will prevent that?” Your voice was nary above a whisper, the fire dying in your veins as quickly as it kindled. He glanced away. “No. But it’s better than letting trust cloud my judgment too soon.” 

You didn’t have an answer to that. He anticipated whoever got close to him to leave him just like that. You could understand why, but to risk you coming to hate him? “Nico,” you started quietly. “I understand, but you run the risk of those people hating you. You’re really misunderstood, but you’re helping it along by pushing people away like that.” He loosened his grip on your wrists, but not once did he let go. “You’ve been through a lot, and your fears are justified, but trust me when I say that you can’t live in fear.”

He looked shocked, and didn’t stop you when you finally gently pried your wrists from his hands. However, as you stepped out the door, his fingers caught the hem of your T-shirt. You turned. “Thank you,” he said, his dark eyes sincere. You found yourself smiling softly at him. “I don’t think this will be the last time I’ll have to talk to you like this. Good night.” With that, you left him standing there in the doorway of his cabin, staring after you with a new perspective set in motion.


	2. Unworthy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! So, quick note here. When I started writing this fic, it was literally out of nowhere. I didn’t plan much, if at all. I just spat it out like it is. However, when I first started, I wrote the reader as female. Now, when I went back and edited the first or second time, I made it more gender-neutral, but then I realized that that would be a bit of a problem, and it would deviate quite a bit (a lot) from canon… Which a lot of no-no reader inserts tend to do, and it makes them suck. That’s not my style. So, sorry for you female readers out there! This is going to be a male-centric reader insert. No hard feelings, right…? Nico is gay in canon. He’s never expressed any romantic interest in female characters anywhere in the series as far as I can tell (and trust me, my friends don’t call me the Shipping Queen for nothing). Anyway, that’s all I have to say for this chapter!

It was precisely two months. Two whole months that you had prayed for a quest. You needed to prove yourself. The Ares kids were beginning to pick on you for the sole reason that Mr. D had seemed to gloss right over you when you and your team won Capture the Flag last Friday. You mean, _you_ were the one who infiltrated the other team’s base and snagged the flag (on pure accident, but nobody needed to know that), and ran with it all the way into your side of the territory! You had nearly passed out from oxygen deprivation and you’d earned a stitch in your side from sprinting. But, that didn’t matter to him, apparently.  
  
He even botched your name.  
  
How does one mess up _your_ name? It’s not that special! He was a piece of work for a god, and you wished you could give him a piece of your mind without being so afraid of getting turned into a grape or something equally unpleasant. What finally broke you was when there finally _was_ a quest. The Oracle had not even addressed you after giving the frustratingly vague riddle.You were not apart of this quest either.  
  
A crowd of campers had gathered to discuss what could be going on, including you… And, to your chagrin, Clarisse. You had a sneaking feeling that she was only there to rile you up about once again being shoved to the wayside. She had sauntered right up, pushing people to the side, and smirked at you with such smug animosity that you knew you’d been correct. She’d asked you how it felt to be ignored once again, unable to prove your worth. At first, you’d been set on ignoring her as much as possible, but everyone’s attention had been caught.  
  
It couldn’t be helped in your mind, so you’d mumbled a, “shut up, Clarisse” in response. She kept on, however, not keen on letting her chance slip, and her words ate you up the more she talked until your hand shot for your hip, drawing your sword as your eyes blazed.  
  
Your voice was a rough yell as you dared her to say it again, say you were a disappointment _one more time_. She’d just sneered at you, about to pull her spear into this fight and make it physical. But the Stolls had stepped in before you could say (or do) anything else, pulling you, snarling, away. You’d shaken yourself out of their grips and turned on your heel, stalking off into the foliage towards the lake.  
  
You didn’t particularly favor water, but it was the place where not many people would go to be away from others. Your cabin was an immediate con, as there were so many campers, claimed and otherwise hanging around. But the water couldn’t drown out Clarisse’s grating words on your brain, depressing it until the ache of them resounded in your bloodstream, roaring in your ears with the rhythm of your heartbeat.  
  
Now, here you are, at the shore of the camp’s lake, minutes after the confrontation. Your hand tightens and tightens around the handle of your sword until your arm reels back with might, and you hurtle your sword into the water with an angered cry, watching it sink like a boulder into the depths. Your shoulders heave, your chest heaves, and you wonder why you can’t prove yourself. You wonder why Hermes has ignored your vehement prayers, practically begging him to give you a chance.  
  
Your eyes burn as you sit back on the soft ground, your legs bent as you cradle your head in your hands. It feels like minutes, but a voice behind you sends your back into ramrod position. “Are you going to go get that?” Your head turns so fast that you have to blink once you do to regain the proper vision, and see Nico standing there casually, leaning against a birch tree as the dying rays of sunlight caress the water, staring at you expectantly. Did he see what happened? How long had he even been in camp? You didn’t see him in the crowd back there.  
  
You scowl and open your mouth to reply, when your gut twinges hard, urging you to _duckduckduck_ so you do, your neck nearly straining with the angle towards your lap. A whizz, some droplets, and a surge of sharp air is all you register in that millisecond. Then a _thud_ , a hollow sound like a woodpecker’s pecking beak on bark, but louder. You look up, your head settling at the right angle on your shoulders in blessed relief.  
  
You gaze out in dumbfounded disbelief at the lake, where a naiad is giggling and waving at you. You twist the upper half of your body towards Nico, only to see that he’d moved to the side, probably a bit before you, not even looking winded. That _bastard._ He watches the lower part of your wet sword wobble a bit from the force in which it was chucked at the tree, a considerable portion of the uppermost part of the blade dug into the bark. Then his eyes slide over to you, your mouth open and your eyes wide with disbelief and indignation, comedically alert.  
  
You turn to the naiad and call a sarcastic, “Yeah, thanks!” When you begin to haul your body up, you pause as you see the son of Hades grasp the handle of your sword and pull the bronze blade out of the tree with ease. He crosses the distance between you two and offers you the weapon.  
  
You sigh and mutter your thanks as you take it carefully and sheathe it. He sits down beside you with no warning, and ignores the puzzled look you shoot his way.  
  
“I heard what happened,” he murmurs, and you look away, scoffing.  
  
“Great, another person who thinks what Clarisse said is true. A Big Three kid to boot. Way to add insult to injury.” Nico doesn’t say anything for three seconds. But when he does, you’re thrown for a loop. “I don’t think that. Clarisse doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and she was clearly projecting her relationship with Ares onto you. It’s an insecurity tactic.” You fix your incredulity onto him, and he meets your gaze evenly, blankly.  
  
He continues on. “You think that Hermes doesn’t want to acknowledge your worth or test you because you’re insignificant. Another one of his children who don’t get picked to go on quests. You feel ignored, don’t you?” You’re lost for words. All you can do is nod, because he’s hit the nail on the head. His eyes finally break away from yours, and he stares at the glistening water, his shoulders back, pale fingers splayed on the sand as his arms hold some of his body up.  
  
“Hermes is one of the busiest gods anyone knows of, (Name). You know that, right? He doesn’t have time for all his kids. None of the gods can show favoritism either. But it never means that you’re unworthy of being his son. He notices you. Soon, you’ll get a quest. You just have to be more patient. You won Capture the Flag, didn’t you? Last week? That was impressive, for being half an accident.”  
  
You sputter, your cheeks coloring, and you swear that he almost smiles. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” he reassures you.  
  
You relax, and let Nico’s words sink into your mind, washing away Clarisse’s jabs like the small waves on the lake as they lap up onto the wet sand, over and over. “Thank you,” you tell him, not bothering to question how he’d known about that particular game of Capture the Flag.  
  
He nods, his eyes locking with yours again. “It takes skill to win Capture the Flag, after all,” he replies easily, but you somehow know that he knows what you’re really thanking him for. When curfew is about to go into effect, after dinner because you aren’t interested in the sing-along tonight, Nico walks you back to your cabin, an oddly companionable silence between the two of you.  
  
When you’re about to part ways in front of the Hermes cabin, you get his attention. “So, tomorrow, spar before lunch?” You challenge with more boisterousness than you’d had all day. Nico shrugs, replying, “If you can handle it.” Then he turns and walks away, blending into the shadows until you can barely discern his form anymore. You face your cabin, and let yourself inside, sighing in relief at the silence of the normally crowded cabin.  
  
Oh, yes. Tomorrow would be better now that you had something more concrete to look forward to.


	3. Falling

You grunt for the umpteenth time as your back hits the dirt and grass.

It’s happened so much, you think you can memorize the pain and the ghost of the vibration from your vocalization long after you utter it. You don’t recall being on your back so much before. The weight on your chest from Nico’s foot makes your breath catch minutely. You reach up before you fully realize what you’re doing, and your fingers brush his shin. You can feel the muscles underneath his jeans, and when you glance up, Nico is giving you a strange expression; something behind his eyes that is gone in the next instant. 

 

You pull back at the same time that he shifts his foot off of you and reaches down with his left hand. Your hand tightens around your sword while you allow yourself to be pulled up onto your feet. You know you must look dishevelled, grass and dirt stains all over you, and sweat pouring from every pore that you’re aware of. You feel disgusting now that you have time to pay enough attention. 

“Had enough?” Nico asks as you try to brush yourself off and gather your composure, your breath trying to regulate itself. You nod, still well beyond words. You two had been at it for close to 4 hours already, training, teaching each other all the moves you knew. Lie. Nico taught you, not so much the other way around, and you had to wonder just where the Hades he’d learned most of them. 

 

Lucky for you, you’d pushed the training session towards the lake. The water beckoned to you with sultry waves and the promise of cooling you down. You sheathed your sword, and you felt Nico’s eyes on you with every move you made, just like you were still training. You did your very best to ignore it and shucked your shirt. You could swear that you heard a sharp intake of breath behind you as you bent over, soaking a good portion of the fabric in the water, slapping it onto your flushed skin. 

Soon, you just soaked the thing in the water and draped it over the back of your neck, moaning as the droplets began doing their magic and the drenched shirt kept feeding your manual natural cooling system. You turned to your fellow demigod only to see him still staring at you, an unreadable look on his face. You blink and shoot him a questioning raise of your eyebrow. 

He looks away after what seems to be an eternity, clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets. Oh. You know that move. That’s what he does when he’s trying to clam up. For some reason, though, you can see he’s failing. It’s endlessly perplexing for you, however, because he’s normally so good at it. 

You wonder what you could have done. So, this is precisely why it’s easy for you to close most of the distance between you and him and say, “I’m sorry,” just loudly enough for him to hear. His head snaps around, his eyes wide and locking with yours. 

“What?” He asks slowly, as if he isn’t sure that he’s heard you right. You had to hand it to him, though, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights with the dumbest look on his face that you really pity him. Or at least… you want to. 

“You heard me,” you answer back, and continue before he can possibly repeat himself. “I know I’ve made you uncomfortable, and I really didn’t mean to, whatever I did.”

For an unsettling moment, Nico’s expression doesn’t change. Then, his tongue flicks over his lips in a split second of clarity that you almost miss. 

“You did the complete opposite, actually,” he mutters under his breath, but his eyes are skittish now for a reason you can’t put your finger on still. 

You freeze. 

“What?” You’d heard him wrong. You could have. You should have. Yes, you did, you imagined i—

“You heard me,” he parroted your own words back at you and it was your turn to frown at him, bewildered. So, you’d known him for a while now, that was true. But never, ever, did you imagine that he would cease to deny that he’d flirted with you pretty openly. You were so busy marveling over this that you didn’t notice him step closer. 

You startle as warm hands land on your sides, closer to your hips, and squeeze; pushing you gently backward and forcing your legs to comply. He’s so close that you can smell him, and you can only stare as he stares boldly back, backing you up slowly steadily, touching you with such blinding confidence that you wonder whether he’d gone and had himself cloned while you were spacing out. 

He suddenly stops and you stop with him, staring at him dumbfoundedly. His eyes flick down to your torso so quickly that you think you imagined it. His hands leave their place at your sides, skimming up your stomach and chest where they stop. His gaze, so steady and enticing all of a sudden, your skin burning and tingling where he’d touched. His slender fingers have stopped a few inches below your collarbones, resting on your skin with a sort of clarity that almost scares you as much as his bold moves do. 

Then his lips twitch and before you know it, you’ve departed from the vertical plane. You’re falling, and you can barely open your mouth to yelp before cool wetness envelops you and your jaw snaps closed on instinct. Your arms spread and work through the water, your legs floundering. You break the surface a few seconds later, panting and sputtering as you rub a hand over your face, clearing the sheen of water from your vision. You stare up at Nico in disbelief and shock, watching as he bites his lip behind his fingers curled up over his mouth, as if stifling laughter. He’d pushed you into the lake. 

“What the Hades was that for?!” You demand as you swim closer to the ledge you’d been standing on mere seconds before. He kneels as you approach, almost sending your legs stilling as his fingers reach out and stroke some of your hair away from your eyes before bracing the connected arm on his thigh in a mirrored position of his other one. 

“You looked like you needed a more thorough soak,” he says simply. You blush so hard that you’re embarrassed for yourself, hoping against all hope that he can’t see it. Judging by the amusement swimming in his eyes, though, you know he did and it’s too late to save your dignity. 

“Di Angelo, you are the devil himself,” you mutter. The son of Hades only grins.


End file.
